The aliens seemed uncertain of what to do, he realised, as he watched their formation spread apart.  They clearly hadn't expected the mass driver, but now they’d seen it they were taking precautions, making it harder to guarantee a direct hit.  And mass drivers needed direct hits to be effective ...

“Take us towards them,” he ordered.  Ark Royal was large and intimidating and she’d just handed out the worst beating the aliens had taken in the war.  If they were lucky, the aliens might just break off ... but he wasn’t sure he wanted them to break off.  He wanted revenge for the dead crewmen who’d died at New Russia.  “Order our escorts to open fire.”

The alien starfighters altered course, then swept back towards Ark Royal.  Ted watched grimly as he realised what the aliens had in mind.  Take out the mass driver, take out the missile tubes ... and Ark Royal would be practically defenceless.  He barked orders as the alien craft closed in, blowing through the defending starfighters, only to run straight into the teeth of the carrier’s point defence.  They weren't even trying to stealth themselves.

The stealth system must have a huge power requirement, he decided, as the starfighters lanced down and opened fire.  Again, the armour deflected most of it, but a number of weapons and sensors were blown off the hull.  Absently, he wondered what would happen if the aliens kept firing into where the weapons had been.  There were additional layers of armour under the primary hull, but they weren't as thick as the first line of defence.

“Firing,” Farley reported.  There was a long pause as five solid projectiles raced towards their targets.  “One hit; three more picked off by the aliens.”

One solid miss, Ted noted.  He cursed under his breath.  The aliens had thought of using counter-battery fire – and, unlike most offensive weapons, mass drivers were vulnerable to defensive fire.  It was simple enough to predict their courses and take them out before it was too late.  Given time, the human raced might manage to build enough mass driver-armed ships to render that a moot point, but God alone knew what the aliens would improvise as a countermeasure.  Or were they incapable of innovation?  It didn't seem likely.

They’re not stupid, he told himself.  Dealing with a stupid enemy would be easier – but a stupid enemy could never have built those ships.  Whatever else they are, they're not stupid.

He scowled.  He really needed a drink.

“Lock missiles on target, then open fire,” he ordered, instead.  On the display, the alien carriers had started to reverse course, tacitly abandoning the battlefield.  But it would take them at least ten minutes to reach a usable tramline.  He’d be able to use that time to hammer their ships into scrap metal.  “And continue firing with the mass drivers until we run out of projectiles.”

“Aye, sir,” Farley said.  “Opening fire ... now.”